I love to laugh (loudly), cook, drink good beer, run long distances, hang out with my family (4 boys!) and friends and read novels. More than anything, I love to sit with people and have meaningful conversations.
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This dirge of a song – written almost entirely in minor chords – was penned in the 1960s by a parish priest in Chicago’s south side. Peter Scholtes wrote it for his youth choir for a series of ecumenical, interracial gatherings when he couldn’t find an existing song to express the unity of the groups gathering.

Somehow, I’m pretty sure when we sang it in my church youth groups and at Sunday night church (where we got to wear jeans and sing “casual songs”… gasp!) we didn’t sing it in the spirit in which it was written.

Speaking only for myself, I think I meant it exclusively in the context of the room where I was singing it. What I meant was something sort of like this:

We (young, white, middle class, conservative Baptists) are one in our beliefs about the Bible and probably some other stuff, including the Spirit (who, by the way, does NOT cause people to speak in tongues!).”

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I’m a Protestant. At the root of our identity as Protestants is Martin Luther standing at the Diet of Worms declaring, “On this I take my stand. I can do no other. God help me.” And while historically, I don’t believe Martin Luther exactly intended for the fractures that ensued, protesting, splitting off, starting over, creating one’s own thing based upon one’s ideas about God, church, etc. became the calling card of Protestants. (If you want to get overwhelmed, go check out the Wikipedia entry of “List of Christian Denominations.” YIKES!)

Occasionally, a denomination starts out of geographical convenience or a sense of community and fellowship that emerges amongst friends. Most often though, new denominations start when our beliefs about God convince us that we can no longer worship or partner with our fellow believers. And sometimes this is true. Several years ago, I was meeting with a monk and we talked about the eucharist and worship and how we would each be welcome in each other’s’ church and how praying together seemed right and good, but neither one could take the eucharist in each other’s church because of our theological differences.

This is fair. Some differences really are so significant that they get in the way of worshipping together. But, even in this conversation where we respected each other’s differences, we looked for our unity in Jesus. (And, I’m completely comfortable going to mass and receiving a blessing from the priest, rather than the Eucharist. I wouldn’t want that to be my experience every week, but I’m cool with it when the occasion arises.)

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But can I be a bit ornery? Can I play devil’s advocate for just a minute?

Isn’t our unity as believers supposed to be found in Jesus? Isn’t our unity supposed to be found in the eucharist, no matter what we believe happens to the bread & wine? Isn’t it possible to say, “we might have different ideas about God, but we agree that Jesus is the center of our unity”?

Sometimes I feel like we’ve bought into the whole stupid enlightenment idea that we are defined by our thoughts about God. But it seems like Jesus is more concerned with our posture in relation to God – that we live in a posture of following after him.

And following Jesus looks like this: love.

“Hey, Jesus. You say a lot of great things, tell a lot of perplexing stories, but boil it down for us to a headline: what’s the greatest commandment?”

“Love God,” Jesus replied, then continued, “And the second command is like the first. Love your neighbor in the same way you love yourself. Everything else hangs on these two.”

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I’d like to imagine Mr. Peter Scholtes sitting at his keyboard trying out lyrics…

“They will know we are Christians by our right beliefs about God.” I hope not, because we’re all wrong somehow.

“They will know we are Christians by our stance on abortion/gay marriage/health care/political affiliations.” The church can’t even get anywhere close to a unanimous answer on these!

“They will know we are Christians by our morality.” Dear, God, if this is the case, we are screwed. Even our clergy have a hard time keeping themselves pure!

“They will know we are Christians by how great our band sounds and how much fog the machine rolls out onto the stage.” <facepalm> I hope no one actually says this.

So simple and so difficult at the same time. I think this is the problem. Understanding what Jesus is saying is simple but it’s really, really hard to love well. Especially, when the standard is my own love of self. And so, we opt for the easier pathway: t-shirts, morals crusades, and intellectual positions about God.

Yes, I know this whole choosing to love, choosing to do the hard thing, choosing to stay in it (whatever “it” is), when what you really want to do is run away is hard and messy and not always clear. But this is the pathway of Jesus.